Mission
by Queen Tzahra
Summary: ONESHOT Even after regular visits and letters, visiting Fuuma in prison is still weird for Seishiro. However, maybe things will be different on Christmas Day, or maybe they've just gone soft in the years since Nihta and Mera...


**Merry Christmas, everybody!**

I hope you're all having wonderful days, regardless of what you're celebrating.

It's been a long time, hasn't it? I think the last thing I posted was for CLAMP Femslash Week back in February. That's INSANE. I will say though, this year has been absolutely insane in both good and bad ways. My day job has been treating me well while my personal life crashed and burned, plus the world being what it is at the moment is enough to make us all crazy. I will say though, in all this chaos I've become all the more grateful for the few consistent things in my life, fanfiction being at the top of the list. I've been working as hard as I can on another big AU project that I'll be posting in the New Year that I am VERY excited about.

In the mean time though, we have this!

I was feeling very sad with no CLAMP Secret Santa this year, so last night I thought, fuck it, let me write something festive for myself! If You Love Me, Answer Me Softly/Nihta is still my favorite universe to play in, and I figure it's time to dip my toes in again. You all know how much I love Fuuma and Seishiro here, let's give them some festive cheer too. To the degree that's possible, anyway. It's not much, but I'm pleased.

I got the title from A Spaceman Came Travelling by Chris de Burgh, one of my favorite Christmas songs.

As ever, I'm eternally grateful to everyone whose read my work. You guys make all the hard work worth it, I love you all!

* * *

There was so little traffic on the roads, the journey upstate took a disconcertingly short time. Seishiro's stomach had only started twisting into a tight, regretful knot when the car he'd hired pulled up to the chain link fence with barbed wire curled on the top. A guard stopped them at the gate, and Seishiro rolled down the window.

"I'm here for Christmas visiting hours," he said, reaching into the inner pocket of his suit jacket for his wallet, but it didn't matter. The guard was one he knew from his many trips up here, and he nodded and waved them through. Seishiro sighed and sank back against the seat, the knot in his stomach tightening painfully as if to make up for lost time. He knew it'd stop once he got inside, he'd known it for years now, but it seemed it was the same as when he and Fuuma had started writing each other: it would take time to get over, but it was possible.

His driver pulled into the first available parking space, asked Seishiro how long he'd be, then nodded and picked up his phone. Seishiro got out of the car and slammed the door behind him. It was an overcast day with a sharp breeze that carried the smell of coming snow and river water. Seishiro shivered and lit a cigarette as he made his way to the main entrance of the prison. There were many more people there than usual: friends, family, significant others, even children. Seishiro caught sight of a small boy, humming softly and clinging onto the hand of his rather grim looking mother. They had the same eyes, he noticed. The knot in his stomach tightened again, but he didn't look away as he finished his cigarette, then followed them inside.

The lobby was its usual bland colors and grim, oppressive air, not helped at all by the fake pine wreaths and ancient Christmas lights hung about the walls. He joined the line to be signed in, taking off his winter coat. He remembered doing this the first time, on a warm sunny day in May, and feeling overdressed as he never had before. It was bizarre, given how long he'd spent feeling out of place or like he had no right to be somewhere. He nodded at a few people he'd come to recognize, until at last he got up to the window. He knew the man behind the glass too.

"How are you?" He asked, as Seishiro slid him his ID.

"Fine," Seishiro replied, because that was always how he responded to this question. "And yourself?"

"Fine, fine. Spent last night with the in-laws, like I don't already work at a prison." He handed Seishiro his ID, a stick on name tag and a release form for him to sign. Seishiro forced a laugh as he signed the paper, stuck the name tag to the front of his lapel and returned his ID to his wallet. He passed through a metal detector, then a pat down, and was finally allowed into the meeting room.

It was buzzing with talking, laughter and even singing. He looked around and spotted Fuuma at once, sitting at his usual table in the corner. He beamed at the sight of him, his smile enigmatic as ever, and Seishiro immediately felt the knot in his stomach ease, as though Fuuma's pull could tug it loose.

"Merry Christmas," he said, getting to his feet and holding out his hand. Seishiro's mouth twitched and he shook it, his heart speeding up suddenly and uncomfortably as it always did.

"You too," he replied, quietly. They sat down at the table, facing each other. Fuuma lay back at his ease, still smiling, as though nothing could have pleased him more than to see Seishiro. Even now, it completely threw Seishiro how eager Fuuma was to spend time with him.

"I'm glad you're here," he continued. He always said that, and Seishiro always remained quiet. At least he could look him in the eyes now. That had taken months. "Was it a pain in the ass getting up here today?"

"The exact opposite," replied Seishiro. A moment's silence passed.

"I've been craving chestnut cream cake," Fuuma said, without preamble. He never expected Seishiro to talk, at least not at first. "My mother used to make it every Christmas," he continued, and for a moment his smile was far away, almost wistful. Seishiro said nothing. Setsuka had usually treated Christmas as an opportunity to vilify his father and cry about all the failures and unfairness around her. As an adult, Seishiro just hasn't cared, preferring to work, even when he technically had someone with whom to celebrate. He thought for a fraction of a second of his colleagues, all celebrating in their townhouses with their families while he was at a minimum security prison upstate visiting The Second Coming of Mr. Untouchable. It didn't preoccupy him at all anymore, especially now he was face to face with Fuuma. The knot in his stomach eased still further. "I started making it myself once I moved back to New York and got an apartment," Fuuma added, thoughtfully. He paused, shifting position in his chair and returning his smile to Seishiro. "I had the recipe memorized, maybe I still do." Seishiro nodded. Fuuma leaned forward, his elbows on the scratched and stained plastic table. The sleeves of his prison uniform pulled up, revealing slivers of smooth skin and muscled upper arm. "I guess we'll see once I'm out of here." Seishiro started and Fuuma was still smiling. "You like sweets, right?" Seishiro nodded again, though he couldn't remember ever telling Fuuma this. The knot in his stomach finally stopped bothering him. "Once I'm parolled, I got you," Fuuma said. Seishiro gave a slight shiver, and, after another moment's silence,

"I can make coffee." He shivered again, looking furtively at Fuuma, who laughed, but was clearly thrilled.

"Dope."

Seishiro actually managed a smile, and the conversation continued.

* * *

I love you all, see you in the New Year!

Also check out how Subaru and Kamui are spending their holiday~ We're all craving chestnut cream cake.

 **I think of reviews when I summon my kekkai, leave me some!**


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